


Pro Eo - [For Him]

by veravia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gore, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Death, Mild Gore, Original Character Death(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Possible Character Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, blurbs, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veravia/pseuds/veravia
Summary: A collection of my Obi-Wan Kenobi blurbs, oneshots, and full fics taken from my tumblr (@katans).
Relationships: Ben Kenobi & Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, ben kenobi/reader
Comments: 37
Kudos: 99





	1. Sweet Stars

The stars above were in reaching distance. You weren’t quite sure you’d ever seen them so bright from Coruscant, but when each stand of light—nearly amorous in its movement, grazed the edge of your chin or the center of your lips you realized you couldn’t complain. 

If it weren’t for Obi-Wan’s head stirring in your lap you were sure you’d float away, meandering through the empty space. Strands of his hair danced around strips of exposed skin, tickling at your stomach. 

“I simply don’t get it,” he grumbled into the night sky. “Every time I start to think anakin is beginning to follow my teachings, he goes off and does something so utterly moronic.” The last word rolled of his tongue as if it left a sour taste in his mouth. He aimed to continue his rant, but he couldn’t seem to express anything other than a sigh of defeat. 

“Did you ever consider that maybe you two are more alike than you care to admit?” 

“How do you think?” he said. 

“Well for starters, have you not seen him with that senator from naboo?” You settled into the sheets, running a loose hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. 

“Padmé? Of course I have; she’s under his protection.” You chuckled in response, catching a confused change of expression out of the corner of your eye. 

“I’m aware. You don’t think it’s anything more?”

“Well the jedi code forbids attach—“

“Obi-Wan. If the jedi code is your biggest concern, then what are we doing right now?” 

He laughed. A warm gust of air from his chest that filled the room. You weren’t sure if either of you had ever been more at peace since the war had started. The gentle hum of tranquility buzzed through your chest. His breath, his voice—he was here and he was safe, at least for the moment. 

You twirled strands of his hair in between your fingers. It was longer than you’d ever seen it before, though you had to admit that you were beginning to like it. The style suited him much more than the standard padawan cut ever could. Something about the blonde flyaways sweeping your palms were oddly endearing. 

Suddenly your facade of peace had began to fade. The stars had blurred, the room was spinning, a searing pain soared throughout your skull. You pressed your hands to the sides of your head, squeaking in agony.

Obi-wan had sprung up and began to speak to you, but his words were distorted—as if he was yelling through a wall of glass. Your eyes had started to fog over, his features blurring in your vision. You opened your mouth and tried to speak but your jaw hung open without a word. 

With a blink, you were in your own home, in your own room. Luke stood in front of you, holding you steady by your shoulders, but you swayed in his grasp. The pain had vanished yet you felt different. Older, weaker in your own body—a force dream. 

You held onto Luke’s shoulders as you struggled to regain your breath. The robe wrapped around your body scratched against your skin with every movement. Your body was worn and painted with wrinkles. Luke stared at you, concern seeping from every pore on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. 

“He’s dead, Luke, isn’t he?”


	2. warm embraces (and peppered scars)

Obi-Wan hunched over the side of the bed, slipping the edges of his robes over his shoulders. You yearned to trace every scar on his back as his muscles contorted in the moonlight. Some were jagged, the lingering from blades and shrapnel—others the grainy lines of blaster burns. 

The scars stretched and blurred as he moved. You could nearly feel the texture of them without so much as a touch, a memory of earlier in the night deep below your skin. He moved slowly, amorously as if to leave as much of himself in the room as he could. 

For months, the bed had been too empty, too cold. Obi-Wan kept his distance as the clone wars raged on, leaving you to long for him more than you ever had before. You settled with politics and senate meeting while he was on the front lines, assisting troops in battle. Sure, there were secret meeting filled with subtle touches and roaming hands, but they were few and far between and never more than a few moments. 

Tonight, he promised to lie with you. It was the first time in an eternity that he’d surrendered to warmth of affection. You lingered under the blankets, bare skin against sheets—your clothes long discarded across the floor. Shadows of touches, some warm and slow, others hungry and driven, grazed your skin. Passion still buzzed deep in your flesh, even in your languorous state. 

He has held you to his chest, and waited for you to fall asleep before he slipped out of bed—lulled by the movement of his breaths and the resonance of his heartbeat. It ached to keep your eyes open, but you were afraid that closing your eyes meant he’d disappear once again. 

“Obi?” Your eyes were wide yet still so saturated in sleep. his body flinched as he turned to face you, startled by your voice. Catching a glimpse of you, swaddled in both sheets and the scent of him, turned his limbs to jelly. “Can you stay over?” 

He opened his mouth to protest, but you held out your hand, pulling you fingers to your palm in a grabbing motion. It was childlike, but you were too tired to care. It queued a laugh from Obi-Wan, the hearty kind that left you heart whirling with endearment. He held his hand out, connecting his fingers to yours, sending ripples throughout your body. It started at your fingers, propelling the wooziness down to your toes. 

Obi-Wan sighed and shed his robes, letting them fall back to the floor. His body was warm as he wrapped himself around you, hooking an arm around your waist and burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. You reached behind him and traced up and down his back, making sure to sweep a soothing finger down each and every scar, once again memorizing the texture of them. 

As you began to drift off into the doting embrace of both Obi-wan and sleep you could only hope that when you woke up he’d still be there.


	3. To Tear (You) Apart

Obi-Wan rested a hand on the small of your back as he guided you down the twisting hallways of the senate building. His breaths were soft and steady, but the excitement buzzing in his chest was nearly spilling over.

You followed along, both of you poise as ever. Straight spines, gentle touches, swift movements. The combination had become a signature for both of you. You concentrated on his padawan braid bouncing against his back as he walked forward, releasing his hand from your body every time he sensed foreign footsteps.

The supply closet—your favorite supply closet—was tucked into the corner of one of the middle floors. It was always the hallway with the least activity from fellow senators and the droids that returned to closet the to dock were gone for the majority of the day.

Obi-wan swiped his hand through the air, queuing the door to whisk open. He glanced in both directions, scanning for anyone around before quickly ushering you into the room.

He stood across from you as the door shut, staring at you in through dark. He reached his hand up, his fingers grazing your jaw in a motion that was borderline angelic. His touch burned through the skin, the glory of it settling deep in your flesh.

“Obi,” you said, leaning into his hand.

The faintest shadow of a smile spread across his lips as he heard his name leave your lips. He muttered your own back at you as he leaned in. At first, his lips were light against your own—butterfly kisses grazing your cheeks as his mouth swirled around yours.

But suddenly, a hunger consumed him, one that he hoped the Jedi would never discover. His hand rested on the base of your neck and his mouth swallowed you whole. Hands roamed the outline of your body and his tongue tasted like peppermint. He was rushed and sporadic, a mindset that only you had the pleasure of witnessing.

On the outside, Obi-Wan Kenobi was perfectly composed. He was calm and clever and always chose to negotiate before drawing a weapon. He made up for any doubts the republic had in him with his demeanor, though there were very few to begin with. But, there was a hunger inside him that he often suppressed. It was the same urge the kept him up at night after he had the opportunity for power—one that could only be recreated when he was with you.

In private, he chased the high of fulfilling that hunger, even if you were the only cure. He explored your body and danced through your mind, ripping through the very shreds of your soul. You were enthralled by him as his hands sunk behind your robes—and he was all but willing to tear you apart because of it.


	4. The Devil in Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after you turned, you were tormented by the idea of obi-wan getting hurt. So when you find inside information that could put him at risk you decide that there are some things that are worth a sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so this one is Obi-Wan and a sith reader! It's not my favorite but I thought you all might still want it!

Obi-Wan’s room was cold, as it always was. When he was given his spot on the council he was offered something more luxurious—fluffed pillows and soft sheets—but it felt wrong. If the other Jedi were sleeping on stiff mats with sparsely decorated walls, he was inclined to do the same. That selflessness was partially what made him such a skilled Jedi—and exactly what made you so bad. Plus, after he lost you, he didn’t feel like he deserved the novelty. 

He focused on the rain outside as it pounded against the roof of the temple. It was melodic–it would have been calming if it wasn’t for you.

You lurked in the corner of his quarters, avoiding the light as much as you could, but you knew there wasn’t really a point in it. It was only a matter of time before he sensed you, felt your presence. The force’s connection between the two of you was just as strong as it’d been so many years ago, but both of you no longer cared to admit it.

“You always hated the rain,” he said, his eyes still fixated on the ceiling. It didn’t take so much as a look to know who was skulking in the corner.

“Obi,” you sneered. “No warm welcome for me?”

“Maybe if you‘d have knocked.” He sat up in his bed, his nightclothes hanging loosely off of his shoulders. A part of you still wished to touch his skin. He was always so soft—even under the layers of callouses and scars. There were more of them now, cicatrix littering his body. But beneath all that, you were sure it was still Obi-Wan. Every freckle, every mole was still in the same spot, you were sure of it. All the nights you’d spend tracing them—

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the shadows, the moonlight dancing across your features. The lights switched on as Obi-Wan whisked a hand through the air, yet your irises still glowed. You were soaked to your core, your robes sticking to every strip of exposed skin. 

“So I take it this isn’t a social call?”

“Aw Obi-Wan, glad to see you’re as insightful as ever. But no, I didn’t come here just to gift you with my presence.” You smoothed out a spot in the sheets and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. Water droplets fell from the tip of your nose, soaking into the comforter. “I actually have some information that you might like to hear.”

He raised a brow in intrigue. You gazed at him, and for a moment you couldn’t help but lose focus.

“You got a haircut.” He instinctually ran his hand through his scalp at the mention of it. 

“That was your information? I’ll admit I was hoping for something a little more exciting.” 

“No, no that’s not it. I like it though.” His skin flushed as you touched him–his mind brushed it off as a force of habit.

You both were silent for a moment, staring through the light. Your eyes were still yellow, but they’d dulled since the night you left. He could almost catch a glimpse of your natural color through them. Your faces were close, your breaths hot. If he closed his eyes he could almost see the way things once were. 

“Your padawan, Skywalker.” You blinked rapidly to escape his gaze. He backed away from you and his expression hardened.

“He’s not a padawan any—“

“That’s not the point,” you swept a stray hair off of his forehead. “He’s turning Obi, towards the dark side.”

“W-Where did you hear that?” 

“It doesn’t matter, you just need to know that the fate of the republic is in danger if you let him live.” 

“That’s not—it can’t be. You must be lying.” His chest seemed to contort like vines were coiling around his lungs—you could feel it, though he worked hard to suppress the feeling. You placed a hand on top of his, wrapping your fingers along the side of his palm.

“Obi-Wan, why would I risk my life to lie to you? I’m sitting in between every Jedi on Coruscant and I didn’t even bring my lightsaber.” You flashed the belt loop where your hilt would usually hang—it was empty.

“Lord Sidious is looking for a new apprentice in Skywalker, he can sense his power. He’s controlling him from somewhere in the senate, you have to find out where.” You voiced cracked as you fought to expose your leader. The dark side was strong, even when you felt your furthest from it. 

“Why would you risk so much to tell me this, what’s your motive?” You opened your mouth but hesitated to speak. 

“I can feel it, your future.” You ran your hand up his forearm, sinking your nails into his skin. Your flesh was cold against his, but there was something soothing about it.

“The pain, the grief.” Your throat ached as you spoke. “It feels like someone’s tearing my ribs out, one by one. I was planning to ignore it, let the feeling pass– but even after all this time, I just can’t stand to see you hurt. The idea of you going through that, it tears me apart.” Obi-Wan suddenly shivered under your touch.

“Even if I never loved myself or the order, God, I loved you. And I can’t stand to feel this pain anymore.” 

Obi-wan could feel it then—like it was tangible in the air. Even after all this time, you were still fighting. Between light and dark, right and wrong. It wasn’t about the Jedi way or believing in the Sith—it was about him. He’d lurked in the shadows of your mind for so long that this wasn’t the first thought of him—this was you finally spilling over.

Behind the emptiness and greed, there was a buzzing in your eyes. It was you—still fighting your way out. He could feel it; your strength, your passion, your desire and all he could do was stare.

“Help me,” he started, clasping both of your hands in his. “We can save Anakin and we can save you.”

The light. It was warm and bright and Obi-Wan stood in it, ushering you towards the path ahead. You reached forward for his hand, but he was just too far–he was always too far. 

“I-I can’t. I have to go.” Darkness befell you again. You shook free of his grasp, moving as far away from him as you could. “You have to destroy him.” You stirred your gaze towards the ground. “Please.” You didn’t say it aloud, but you could both hear the words–echoing in your minds: ‘you have to destroy me’

You flicked your hand through the air and turned out the light, disappearing just as fast as you’d come in. The window was still open, a breeze toying with the curtains. Obi-Wan could still hear the rain. It was lighter than it’d been when you came in, but still prevalent enough to spill off of the roof. 

Anakin was his friend, his brother but if what you were telling him was true, something had to be done. He laid down, letting your warnings sink through his skin. He was hurt, confused and tired–but most of all, he was cold.


	5. A Silent Gesture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Sith!Reader chapter!

The world was hot and spinning. You were woozy and strained, yet somehow you’d never felt more power in your entire life. It surged through your veins, bleeding from your soul. 

You twirled your saber as it crackled through the air. It wasn’t nearly as smooth as the blue one you’d carried as a child, but it was stronger, darker–it felt right. 

Obi-Wan pressed his back against yours, his muscles contracting as he swung. You followed suit–a symphony of dark and light tearing through the waves of droids and clones. The more you swung, the more your body began to ache with exhaustion, but you fought through the pain. 

In the end, bodies laid around the both of you–clone and droid alike. You recognized some of them, and you were sure Obi-Wan did too. He turned off his saber, stuffing it back into his robes with a stiff expression. 

His cloak settled at the base of his feet, dirtied in the struggle. He kicked it around as he attempted to catch his breath. You massaged your aching limbs as you studied him, hoping it would bring out some type of light in you–but you knew what this was. 

The hilt of your lightsaber rattled against the durasteel of the landing pad, rolling across the ground. Obi-Wan craned his neck to look at you and suddenly he froze.

He could see it then–the difference between the light in his eyes and the darkness in yours. Shadows pooled around your features, nearly swallowing you whole. 

It was the power of it all. The peace that settled deep into your flesh each time you surrendered to the dark side. A peace that could only be obtained as you plunged your lightsaber into a man’s chest or let your own selfishness take over. 

Your pain, your greed, your anger–he could see it all begin to bubble over. 

“Obi,” you trembled as it overtook you. Your eyes started to radiate that gold shade again, the darkness within the force ravishing your body. “It’s time.” 

He placed his hands on top of your wrists in attempts to steady you, though you only shook even harder. 

“No, I can’t–I couldn’t.” After all this time his touch was still warm, tingling under the skin. 

“Please,” you begged, hot tears staining the sides of your cheeks. “I can’t fight anymore, darling. It hurts.” Obi-Wan stared at you, his teeth tearing at his bottom lip. 

You nodded at him–a silent gesture that both of you grasped. Obi-wan’s saber flickered on, The blue light illuminating both of your faces. The pain was savage and loud. You reached out to him, your face wet and your eyes large. 

And then he did it. He plunged the hilt deep into your chest. Your skin gurgled and your body soared with a hurt you’d never felt before. Every muscle burned to its core. You cried out and crumbled to the ground, but suddenly everything was silent. 

The fighting that had ripped through your body for so long had vanished. There was no dark, no light–it was just you. 

You listened to the wind, the speeders flying by. You listened to his sobs as they rattled his chest. He sank to his knees, resting a comforting hand on your waist. 

“Obi-Wan?” you murmured, brushing your fingertips against his cheek. “It was you. It was always for you.”


	6. like real people do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> request: If you’re still doing blurb night... what about “what’s this between us” with Obi-Wan and Senator!reader? Thank you so much!

Obi-Wan lingered in the corner of your room, slipping his tunic back over his head. It was loose on his body, shielding his skin from your view.

You stirred in the sheets of your bed, typing away at your datapad. The faint light of your bedside lamp danced across your features. The world was quiet, your room was warm, for the first time in months, Obi-Wan was at peace. 

“Obi?” He hummed in response, folding his robe over a chair in the corner. “What is this between us?”

“What do you mean?” He glanced over at you, your eyes wide, the blankets resting just below your collar. His heart fluttered.

“You come to my room, we sneak around the senate. I know it’s just fun, deep down I do—yet I can’t help but wonder if you feel the same way about me that I do about you.” Obi-Wan smiled.

“If only you knew.”

“What?” He rolled on his heels and a breath rattled from his lungs. 

He wasn’t sure how he could explain it. How his limbs went numb every time you spoke or how everything about you was otherworldly to him. He was surrounded by death and destruction but every time he arrived in your room it all washed away. Obi-Wan was reborn for you–risen from ash. There were no words to describe such a feeling. That is except–

“I think I may be in love with you.“

“Y-You do?” You half expected him to tell you that you didn’t mean anything to him. That the Jedi Order was the only thing he cared about and you were just a welcomed distraction from the battles he faced during the day. 

“You’re not joking are you?” Obi-Wan laughed, a large gust of air emptying from his lungs. 

“I don’t know, Senator. Should I be?” 

“Not at all, General.” You motioned him towards you and he slipped his tunic back over his head, surrendering himself to your mattress. “I’d like things to stay just like this.”


	7. Et Solem

There was something oddly poetic about holding sunlight in your hands, no matter the heat. It was warm and radiant and it swirled around the center of your palms. It was a power that not even Helios could possess—and you could only ascribe it to him.

You liked to brush your hands through Obi-Wan’s hair as he slept, twisting strands between your fingers. You were always careful, making sure not to pull too hard and irritate him or wake him up in the process. His face was always so settled–so tranquil when he was asleep–you refused to risk ruining that. 

Most nights he’d wait for you to fall dormant first, or at least fake it. He’d trace the imperfections in your skin, connecting them like constellations until he drifted off himself, his head burrowed into the center of your chest.

If you were lucky enough to wake up just after this, or better yet trick him beforehand, you’d be just in time to catch him in that state. He was vulnerable, dripping like syrup into your flesh.

You loved it.

He preferred no one to see him like that, not even you. Sleep was the one state where he was utterly defenseless. His whole body was left to stir in the palms of your hands—depending entirely on your protection.

There were some nights where your room was just too pure to leave your conscious state. You knew well enough that if you went to sleep you’d wake up and he’d be gone, leaving only a shadow of himself under your sheets. So, you let him sling his arm around your waist and you watched him stir until the sun came up. Sure, there were bags under your eyes and he’d held you so tight that you really couldn’t breathe (little did you know it was because he shared the same fear that you did—that in which he’d wake up to an empty bed), but you’d spent the night feeling the thud of his heartbeat and slow breaths gliding across your throat—so it all seemed worth it.

And just as the sun began to spill through the windows Obi-Wan’s eyes would flutter open. He’d rest his chin in the center of your breast bone and smile up at you. He’d kiss just below your collar, then right along your jaw, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. He left parts of himself to buzz deep in your flesh long after he left.

The gestures were kind, ones that Aphrodite herself dreamt of. It was a sentiment untouched by jealousy or rage. One that stung as skin grazed against skin. It was delicate–as if you were paper under his fingers and he was terrified of tearing the edges. 

And when he was satisfied with himself, knowing well enough that the scent of him would linger in your bedding until he returned, he slipped out of the sheets without so much as a word. 

Yet you smiled, because no matter the events of the day you had the sun. He stayed in your room and slept in your bed, leaving a permanent light fastened to your soul. And that sun–he was yours, and only yours.


	8. The Call To Motion

Creatures sang from deep into the forest—the only evidence that the pastures didn’t fall off into oblivion after miles of empty fields. You wriggled your toes in the dirt, sticking the ball of your foot into the edge of the water.

Naboo was never too hot and never too cold. It always smelt like fresh rain and the creatures that hummed the symphony of twilight had lulled you to sleep so many nights before.

So as the sounds of drunken senators and their tired partners soared through Theed palace, you’d slipped out towards the edge of the forest, the setting sun dancing across the lake.

Obi-Wan was silent as he approached, but you could feel him there. He clashed with the humidity of the night—crisp and elegant. Obi-Wan belonged on Coruscant as much as you belonged here.

“Senator,” he mused. He approached–resting his hand on the small of your back. Your body was suddenly warm, the vines of affection winding throughout your frame.

“General,” you replied. Your voice was velvety and it rolled off your tongue, mingling with the air of the night. Mud sludged between your toes as you spun on your feet to meet his eyes. The last of the sun splashed across his cheeks—the faded evidence of freckles buzzing just below his skin.

“How’d you find me?”

“Well, my keen senses of course.” You raised a brow and he chuckled. “And possibly the shoes you so kindly left by the balcony.”

You giggled and Obi-Wan could feel his heart soar. He scrutinized every feature in your face—every flaw, every freckle, every mole. You held the linens that hung around your feet, child-like, afraid of dirtying them in the mud.

“I figured since I couldn’t be with you in there, I might as well join you out here.” His smile was bright, nearly hubristic in its own way.

“Well,” you leaned your head towards his chest, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m glad you did.”

He rested both hands on your hips and he could feel you smile into his skin. Your breath was slow, each gust of air from your lungs leaving his flesh in a frenzy. He swayed with you, following along to the cantina tune that trumpeted from inside the palace.

Neither of you would quite call it dancing, but the motions, the movements—the love that was sowed deep within them didn’t need any flashy spins or chassés. You simply absorbed each other, silent gestures leaping between the two of you.

Under the setting sun and newborn stars on Naboo, Obi-Wan whispered to you. Words of devotion, of fondness, of love. He surrendered himself to you, enthralled by the way you moved.


	9. No Better Love

It was late.

Comets swirled through the sky, nearly close enough to touch. Obi-Wan watched them through your window and he couldn’t help but wish you were among them, both of you.

To infinitely meander through heavenly bodies—without time or fear or life.

He arrived at your room just as the sun fell below the horizon, the first signs of constellations stretching across the sky. He was hunched as you opened the door, his robes dirtied and bags pooling under his eyes.

You pulled him in and handed him a clean tunic, one you’d hidden in the back of your dresser for an occasion just like this one. It sat in his lap on the bathroom floor as you ran a hot rag against the length of his back, streaking layers of dirt through his skin. Your hand was light against cicatrix—careful not to disturb the beauty of his scars.

And as the night progressed and moonlight began to swirl around the room, you filled it with echoing voices. Obi-Wan spoke of his misfortunes for the day and you laughed—the hearty kind that left his soul billowing with serenity. A cluster of droids, an unfortunate mud pit, and a very dirty Anakin and Obi left you doubling over, nearly in hysterics. He laughed along, the evidence of his early exhaustion fading with every breath.

Then, delicate kisses along the length of your jaw, the tip of your nose, the center of your lips. He smelt of your flowery soap and blaster residue, a mix you found yourself all too familiar with.

Obi-Wan had taken up appearing at your door, dirty or injured, long before that night. Half of you thought he was too embarrassed to show himself at the temple with his body scathed, but the rest of you knew he enjoyed the special treatment. For you to soak his aching flesh or wash his dirtied robes—your presence enthralled him.

So he’d spend as long as he could, doting on you. Exhaustion was nothing more than a feeling that perforated the back of his mind—one that could be easily ignored when distracted by your skin. His hands, as always, were merciful as his fingers ran the length of your spine. Oh, to possess such a love, he always thought. One that’s nearly palpable in the air.

But soon enough, the stars would glimmer in the night sky, a subtle light against your skin, and Obi-Wan’s head would stir in your lap. Your fingers were tangled haphazardly in his hair and he could feel his consciousness beginning to fade. And as he looked up into the heavens he was sure you belonged amongst the cosmos. A place where your beauty was untouched by time or pain.

He was unsure of tomorrow, but he knew no matter how agonizing the future would be, he had tonight. He had the stir of your laughter and the heat of your skin. And he held onto that—a pleasant memory that bloomed in the center of his mind whenever things grew especially dismal.

So, when life grew nearly unbearable, Obi-Wan would search for you in the night sky—a constellation that screamed of better times and a love that seeped into his bones.


	10. Sweet Sorrow

Obi-Wan burrowed his head into your nape as if he wished to morph your skin into one. His breath was hot against the side of your neck and if it weren’t for his trembling hands, you’d have been melting. 

Silence clung to every corner of the room, palpable in the air. It was thick and sticky, the hand of death still tightly wound around both of your throats. 

“He was right there one minute and the next, it had consumed him. I watched Anakin die.” His voice was muffled against the side of your neck, that of a broken man. 

“I know, darling.” You ran your fingers through his scalp, catching the loose ends of hair that matted to the base of his neck. The burning scent from Mustafar still lingered on his robes, stinging the edges of your nostrils. 

“I have failed them,” he murmured. “Anakin and Qui-Gon.” Your heart clenched as the grip around your waist tightened.

“No, no, no,” you cooed into the side of his head. “There was nothing you could do, Obi. The Chancellor is to blame, not you.”

Obi-Wan hummed in response and the night hummed back. Tatooine was dry, but the interior of your hut was dripping with the ardor of sweet sorrow. The windows hung open and desert creatures sang of the sandy terrain, some more pleasant than others.

“And Qui-Gon,” you cupped his cheeks in your palms, his skin nearly pooling him your hands. “Qui-Gon would be so proud of you, my love.”

Hot tears began to spill from his eyes—first one, then another, then a floodgate to follow them. They dribbled from the edge of his cheeks to your fingers as you attempted to wipe them away with your thumbs.

“Y-You really think so?” He sniffled and your heart just leaped. You chewed your lip for a moment in thought, a soothing silence hanging in the air. Obi was Qui-Gon Jin’s greatest accomplishment, everyone who knew them knew that. If there was one emotion that he always felt for his padawan, it was pride.

“I do,” you replied, the phantom of a doleful smile dancing across your lips.

Under all the salty tears and the pain of mourning, Obi stared at you with devotion saturating his skin. It dotted along each of his freckles and down every scar. You were his solace, his distraction from a world that seemed to be burrowing into an apocalypse.

For a moment, he let himself venture into your features, disregarding the world outside your hut. He was safe and he was warm and there was no one to hurt either of you.

“I love you,” his voice was small, but when he kissed the edge of your mouth, the gesture was loud enough to make up for it. “More than anything.”

You crooned into his lips, whisking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I love you too,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. His posture settled, melting into a puddle in your grasp.

So, in the comfort of your living room, newly inhabited and still coated in a layer of dust, you whispered to Obi-Wan.

“You are no failure, Obi, and I am so proud to love you.” Because even if it was just a distraction, it was a tender one, and it was one he deserved.


	11. Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Sith!Obi x Reader.

The room was quiet, windowless, dark. A haunting silence that left your ears ringing dripped from the walls. Your feet brushed against the carpet, the edges of the rug dancing against your toes.

You crept towards the bed, chewing on your bottom lip as solace. Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your hilt, waiting for your moment to strike.

You raised a hand, trembling as it twisted around the comforter.

“My Dove,” he purred, fingers gripping the slide of your arm. “Did you really think killing me would be that easy?”

You sucked in a breath until your lungs burned, though there was no need to hide anymore. He could see you, he could hear you, and in a way that was poetically animalistic—he could smell you.

He had an appetite. A hunger that could no longer be appeased by the sweet taste of blood. He lived to manipulate, to kill slowly from the inside out until nothing but a shell remained.

“You can’t admit it, can you?” His voice echoed throughout your room. “That killing me is no longer your goal. You yearn for the hunt, the chase. Don’t you?” His breath was hot against your neck, but as soon as you extended your hand behind you, you were met with nothing more than heavy air.

“There’s a darkness inside you, little bird, I can taste it.” His lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. There was no visible being there to wrap their arms around you, but he was there, deep below the skin. “And oh, is it alluring.”

A shiver swept down your spin, leaving your mind in fragments. His room was swallowed by layers of darkness, a pool of infinite dusk that seeped through every layer in your skin until it burrowed its way into your flesh.

“Fidelis,” you hissed. Your vocal cords ached as the words left your throat, the sound tumbling through the air.

“Ah, there it is. I was waiting to hear that voice of yours.” His words wrapped around your neck as if they held a physical place in the darkness. “Yet, you still mock me with that title as if I have not embraced it.”

“Say my name, little bird. Say it.” His words swirled around your skull, pulling at the very fabric of your sanity. “Say it... say it... say it.” His voice echoed deep in your ear.

“Kenobi,” you finally whispered. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You could hear him suck in a breath, but you didn’t bother to turn, knowing well enough he’d disappear as soon as you did.

“So, you do know. You’ve heard the stories, learned the truth.” His voice was softer, but the vicious tone still hung from the edges.

“I have. You were dealt a bad hand, Obi-Wan.”

“Was I?” Suddenly he stood in front of you, eyes glowing against the night. He held your chin with his thumb, raising it towards him. “Or perhaps this was exactly where I was meant to be.”

“No.” Your expression contorted in his grasp. “To live in such sorrow? No one’s meant for this,” you spat.

“Sorrow, my Dove?” he sneered. “I believe it might be time to reflect.” His fingers traced the sides of your arms, dancing a careful hand down to your waist.

“You‘ve spent so much time hunting me that you’ve lost yourself in the process. There’s a feeling that you push down, but you can’t deny it anymore.” His breath was hot against the side of your ear.

He was right.

There was no contesting him. In the months that you’d spent chasing the ghost that was Darth Fidelis, building towards this moment, the feeling struck you over and over. You held the weight of the Jedi on your shoulders, but they were gone. And you began to worry that you would be too.

With each meeting and whispered conversation you could feel him, tearing through the outer layers of your body until he reached your core, swirling your soul around in his fingers. He sensed the darkness that plagued as much as you did and it was only in due time that it’d begin to swallow you whole.

“Are you not tired of fighting, of killing?” he whispered. “Join me, little bird. Don’t disregard the feeling anymore. Accept it, accept me.”

He ran his thumb along the side of your jaw and you shiver—not because you were scared or him, but because the idea was starting to feel all too tempting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy my works and wish to request something yourself, there's a Spring writing event going on on my Tumblr!! You can view it here: https://datapads.tumblr.com/post/615122419616792576/its-officially-spring-break-for-me-so-i-decided --- so feel free to participate if you'd like!!


	12. Honeyed Love

There was an angel on Obi-Wan’s balcony.

A soft figure that drooped against the side of his rail, invisible wings bleeding through the rising sun. Your chin settled against the duracrete, soft skin pooling around the edges.

The sun on Naboo was warm, even as it was only beginning to streak across the horizon. It saturated layers of exposed skin, leaving streaks of gold across your body.

Obi-Wan was mesmerized. Birds sang the songs morning and the air lingered with the scent of the flowers that twisted around his balcony.

The image in front of him, one of such magnificence and dignity, was one he wished to preserve forever. You were both so warm, so happy, so in love.

He rested his hands on your waist, planting a kiss to the side of your temple. Your skin tingled against his lips, and he nearly turned to jelly.

You brushed your fingers against the side of his face, tracing the line of freckles that etched a constellation across his cheeks. He leaned into your touch as you hummed a ‘good morning’ from the side of your lips.

Honeyed endearment streaked across the side of your face as he pressed his lips to the side of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose, then the center of your forehead.

Each touch was no longer enough. There was no amount of gentle exchanges that could leave him feeling as whole as he did at that moment. He wished that you could swallow him whole and allow him to meander through the heavens that streamed through your body.

The love that dripped from him was a syrupy one, almost impossible to wash away. He had to touch your skin, kiss your lips, all to feel an allure so deep that it burrowed beneath his flesh.

He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck. The river, one of many in the lake country, flowed beneath you, orchestrating the melody of the morning.

“Do you suppose one day we’ll live somewhere like this?” you pondered as you leaned your head into his chest. “Somewhere we can watch the sunrise and drink out of tiny teacups and roam the fields during the day.”

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?” he chuckled into the side of your neck.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “But somewhere that would be like this forever.” He smiled into the side of your jaw, the heat of his breath, spilling through his teeth.

He couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. That maybe fate would lead him to such a place where he could catch the morning sun against your skin every day, rather than the rarity of time spent in the lake country.

So, he hummed into the center of your skin, absorbing any fragment of you he could for the time being—for he knew as well as you did that this heaven was only temporary.

“I hope so, my love,” he murmured. “I hope so.”


	13. Sectis, et Livor

His bruises were fresh, leaving a red splotchy pattern. They connected with scrapes and burns, leaving a dotted pattern of injury across his skin.

“Have you ever thought about not getting yourself in so much trouble, Kenobi?” He chuckled as you pressed a rag against his skin.

“Oh well, where’s the fun in that?” Both of your laughs filled the air and icy fingers traced his face.

Obi-Wan had made a habit of coming to your apartment after missions. You were no medic, he knew that, but he liked the attention and you liked feeling helpful, so it all seemed to work out. That is, when he didn’t look completely destroyed.

Tonight, his left eye was swollen, his lips torn up, and if you hadn’t been so focused on bandaging his wounds, it would’ve torn you apart.

He winced under your touch and you pressed a cloth to his lower lip. A mumbled apology rolled from the edge of your mouth as you pulled it away, dabbing the back of your hand to a bruise that began to swell at the bottom of his chin.

“You’re freezing.” He wrapped his hand around your wrist, drawing it away from his skin.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “You should take a look at yourself.”

He gave you a once over and began his slip robe off of his shoulders. His tunic was just as damaged as the rest of him—scarred with the evidence of battle.

A particular hole just above his elbow caught your eye. It was a sharp wound, caused by a blade or shrapnel if you had to guess. It was long and thin and seeped through the cloth with a layer blood—but that wasn’t what you were interested in.

It connected to a scar—one of your favorites to trace on the nights you couldn’t sleep. The pinkness of it it had dwindled to the point of nearly being unnoticeable, but the new wound split it open once more, shredding through tissue.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the great symphony of life. That every time something began to heal and fade, there’d be a new wound to replace it—a bigger and stronger one.

You frowned at his arm as Obi-Wan wrapped his robes around your shoulders. The cloth scratched against your skin, but it was warm it smelled like him, so you took what you could get.

“Better?” He asked?

“Better.” You dropped your rag into the tray of discarded bandages and Obi-Wan tugged at your waist, pulling you into his lap.

“Aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you?” He snorted and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I suppose there’s always next time for that.” You signed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your jaw.

“I know,” you hummed. There’d always been another wound to rip itself apart.


	14. Red and Blue

In the beginning, he thought this might be temporary.

That the aging lines and dotted freckles of the Tatooine sun would soon fade away. That one night he would lay amongst the stars of Coruscant again, enveloped in both sheets crafted by moonlight and your arms—sticky with endearment.

He still had that now, at least half of it. Where Coruscant was blue, Tatooine was red—an ever-burning ball of heat, fueled by the fury of its twin suns. Even as the moon began to cycle through the sky, a warmth buzzed beneath the surface, awaiting its awakening under the morning sun.

But he had you. And even though the room was no longer constructed by an array of stars, you still inhabited his bed, draped across his body like silk. He could feel your chest fall with every breath and an innocence danced across your face that he was positive he couldn’t live without.

What had he done to deserve you? After all he’d done, after all who’d died for him, there you were–willing to give up everything for a man who was nothing more than broken pieces. As senatorial powerhouse you had everything you could ever want–but when your world came tumbling downwards you found that he’d become that everything. 

If there was anything that Tatooine had given you, it was the ability to love freely and to love loud. Coruscant forced both of you to remain quiet and contained. Affection was left to subtle touches and soft whispers, but on Tatooine his lips could be on your cheek, your hands could be in his hair. The obstacles that you’d faced before no longer mattered–even if they were to be replaced with new ones. 

He found himself wondering more often than not if this life was worth the pain. Not only to himself, but to you, to the Jedi, to Anakin and Padmé. To see you lying before him with such an ardor for life buzzing deep in your bones left him in a state of bliss–one that was plagued by a scorching feeling of guilt. 

“You’re thinking.” Your eyes were still closed, swirling with the embrace of sleep as words bubbled from the corner of your lips. “What is it?” 

If it weren’t for the concern buried under your drowsy tone, he would’ve laughed. You were barely conscious, half-dreaming and half drugged with melatonin—yet there you were, asking about him.

He hummed into the top of your head, a dismissal of the question. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your palm and gazed up at him.

He was there, at least physically. His arm was draped over your shoulder and he glowed in the evening light, but something was missing. His eyes had glossed over.

Obi-Wan wasn’t in your home—he wasn’t even on Tatooine. His mind had scattered itself throughout the galaxy—a piece on Mustafar, a piece on Coruscant, a piece on Naboo. How could you blame him? Everything he’d loved was taken from him in the matter of one rotation. His friends, his family, his home—and he was left with nothing more than the bones of who he once was.

“Obi,” you murmured into the side of his neck. “You’re drifting again. Come back to me.” Your words were sticky as they tumbled through the air, but he blinked and the blue in his irises began to shine through.

“I’m sorry, love. I just—“

“I know.” You ran your fingers along the side of his jaw, tracing a line of freckles that’d darkened under the sun. “You don’t have to apologize to me.” He exhaled, his breath heavy enough to weigh down the room. “You don’t have to apologize to anyone.”

Obi-Wan’s arms tightened around your waist, a motion that dripped with wordless appreciation.

“I love you,” he hummed, and he meant it. Because as lost as Obi had become, he had you to keep him grounded. He mourned the loss of what once was, but the life he now possessed was new--and it was a life with you.


	15. Evening Rain

Coruscant storms were his favorite storms. 

It was the only time a planet so crowded seemed to slow down. Speeders stretched across the horizon a little longer, windows were left open to hear the dripping of rain, and the streets, though rarely in view from your room, were sure to be emptied of their normal city-goers. 

Obi-Wan watched as sheer curtains danced between the balcony doors, droplets of water finding their way into the room from the edge of your patio. You always left the doors open while it rained, finding your way to the base of the balcony, the tips of your toes falling prey to the sky emptying above. 

You wrapped your coverup around the base of your collar (though the nightgown’s solace against the cold air was slim to none) and stepped towards the middle of the balcony. 

He could only observe as the storm showered your body in rain—fresh droplets seeping through clean linens to dwell at the surface of your skin. Within seconds, the cloudburst had left you covered head to toe—thunder ripping across the sky. 

He sat there for a moment, harking the hum of the radio from the corner of your kitchen as it sang of cantina songs he’d heard many times before. You craned your neck to see him, his body inclined against the island with two plates balanced in his hands. 

You shook your head and motioned for him to join you—an arm outstretched towards him from the dampness of the evening. 

Obi-Wan’s lips parted as he huffed in laughter, placing the dishes on the counter and adjusting the radio enough that the melody stood a chance against the screaming of the clouded sky. 

As soon as he stepped out from the door, rain oozed through the fabric of his robes, soaking him to his core. His hair matted to the top of his forehead and droplets fell from the tips of his lashes as he turned towards you. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Your voice was just loud enough to fight against the echoing sky. 

“If you enjoy getting sick, I suppose,” he replied, placing a hand against the top of your hip. 

You shook your head in response, a smile stretching across your lips as you leaned into his touch. His hands brought solace from the sky as it whithered above—his fingers trailing up the side of your frame. 

“Dance with me, Obi?” Your voice was quieter this time, adopting the softer tone it always did when you were asking for things. 

“Dance?” Redness began to crawl up the sides of his neck, peeking from the edge of his collar. 

You hummed in response, both of your knowing well enough that he wouldn’t say no. 

Obi-Wan sighed and extended a hand out towards you. You laid your own atop of it and fondness bloomed between the two of you, like thick roots stretching up his arm. 

The radio buzzed from the kitchen as your bodies swayed together. It was muffled and you were cold enough to feel a shiver beneath your bones, but you decided that you wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else. 

Because there, on Coruscant, with rain soaking through every layer of your flesh, your love was palpable.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so I hope you enjoy these! You can also access them on my tumblr (katans.tumblr.com)!!


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